


A Savage Wolf's Pups

by Shiro_Hunter



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Ruby Weapon quest spoilers (as of patch 5.2), Tavern Songs, i lovingly call this the 'WoL and Gaius being salty as fuck at each other' fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24715276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiro_Hunter/pseuds/Shiro_Hunter
Summary: The Warrior of Light had always resented Gaius — and for good reason — and even after they’d agreed to a truce, the two had both solemnly accepted that they’d never get along. Except perhaps, when it comes to the Black Wolf's pups.
Relationships: Gaius van Baelsar & Warrior of Light
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	A Savage Wolf's Pups

**Author's Note:**

> WoL and Gaius being old enemies-comrades who are salty af towards e/o. that's it. that's the TED talk
> 
> Spoilers is rly for Ruby Doomsday bc that's the only quest that's out at the time of writing this fic. WoL is kept ambiguous bc that's just how my fics live but I _am_ basing it off mine. And as a disclaimer: sexual harassment of any form is NOT okay, ok? ok

“ _ A wyrm there was, a wyrm, a wyrm... _

_ All big and black, and covered in scales! _ ”

If Gaius didn’t know better, he’d say it was a fae dancing in the wind, its melodiously cunning voice ringing across the night sky as it sang, skipped, and hopped all over the unreal fields built upon man’s dreams. But, somewhat sadly, Gaius  _ did  _ know better; Singing, skipping and hopping before him was no mere fae, but perhaps the most terrifying of them all; the Warrior of Light, Eikon-Slayer, Defender of Eorzea, and holder to the absolutely genuine title of “Most Deceptively Delicate-Looking in Eorzea”.

(After all this time, Gaius  _ still _ regretted ever thinking the boy was but a harmless adventurer fit to wield the harp more than the sword. Little did he know that, for one, he was perfectly capable of both, if the sword was instead an endless barrage of precisely-nocked arrows; and second, that the very thing could turn a miqo’te so…  _ lethal _ .)

_ “Oh come they said, oh come to the fair _

_ The fair? Said he, but I'm a wyrm! _

_ All big and black, and covered in scales! _

_ And down the road from here to there. _

_ Three boys, karakul, a dancing wyrm! _

_ They danced and spun, all the way to the fair!” _

Though perhaps such lofty titles were of little use to the aforementioned hero that night. After all, if you decided to help out — your godsforsaken Hydaelyn knows why — as a  _ tavern waiter  _ in the busy quarters of Ala Mhigo, not many would be sober enough to give a bloody thought to (let alone  _ recognize _ ,) who you might’ve been, among the bottles of ale and other booze emptied daily.

Still, in true warrior of light fashion, the hero had sat down customers and served drinks; he’d sang when the tension between some soldiers had gotten thick, and he’d danced his way through the tables when they started cheering for more. The tavern was now nigh bursting with liveliness as a result — moreso than usual, if that was even possible — yet still, he kept on. He’d regaled the tavern with tales upon tales of adventures and fiction alike, nary a waver in that pleasing voice of his nor a tremble to the smile on his lips to acknowledge the sweat trickling down his brow and the vibrance slowly fading from his face.

( _ A bard at heart, a martyr to a fault. _ )

“ _ Oh, sweet she was, and pure and fair! _

_ The maid with honey in her hair! _

_ The maid with honey in her hair. _

_ The wyrm smelled the scent, on the freezing air. _

_ The wyrm! The wyrm! _

_ All big and black and covered in scales! _

_ He smelled the scent on the freezing air! _

_ He sniffed and roared and smelled it there! _

_ Honey on the freezing air! _ ”

Gaius watched as the hero made to get another tray of ale from the counter, steadily singing a new verse while masterfully evading the dances and cheer made to the beat of his rhythm. Sometimes, Gaius truly wondered if the warrior should not have instead taken to the stage as a full-time job (or a jester, for that matter, with the way he could balance  _ four  _ trays on his person at the same time). Perhaps he'd tried the profession already?

“ _ Oh, I'm a maid, I'm pure and fair, _

_ I'll never dance with a scaly wyrm! _

_ I'll never dance with a scaly wyrm. _

_ The wyrm, the wyrm! _

_ Lifted her high into the a—“ _

—And then, it happened.

One of the Ala Mhigan soldiers, drunk beyond measure, had just slapped their own liberator right on the arse.

It wasn’t unexpected, to be frank. With a face like his and charisma befitting a beloved hero, it'd have been little wonder if even this was a normal thing for the Warrior of Light. Gaius didn’t even think twice when the hero simply walked away and continued his performance, all without missing more than a few beats — though the fact that he saw, for the briefest of moments, the hero sparing a murderous glare sharp enough to sunder an eikon over his shoulder,  _ did _ take him by surprise.

For the moment, the former commander decided to leave it be. It wasn’t his business; his presence there was a tad complicated (to say the least), and the famed savior himself didn’t seem to pay it much mind, either… That is, until the same soldier grabbed their champion by the wrist the next time he passed by, this time appearing completely immune to whatever his nation’s hero was trying to  _ politely _ say to regain his disregarded personal space.

Gaius drew the line at that point.

There was a sudden, loud splash resounding over the loud cheering, and every soul in the tavern almost seemed to freeze. The accompaniment music fell silent following the dying chatter, and every pair of eyes began to wander from their previous tasks — almost as if the entire place had turned to look at the source of the sound.

“Oh, soddit,” Gaius said, intentionally slurring a little as he pretended to lament his fallen glass of half-full spirits whose contents had splashed all over the floor. “What a waste.”

The silence ended no sooner than it had started. Some groaned and some sneered ( _ “Another bloody drunk” _ ), but eventually the tavern returned to its earlier liveliness. The Warrior of Light, however — though made use of the momentary distraction to back away from the drunkard’s table — was continuing his lively melody no more. Instead, he let the lute players go on without him, and walked over to the counter to clean up the mess, glaring coldly at Gaius the entire time.

Obviously, the hero had seen through his act; not even Gaius’s artificial swaying (just in case anybody was watching) could’ve been more than a flimsy attempt at espionage in his eyes — ‘twas simply the kind of man he was. The former commander expected to be completely ignored as the temporary server cleaned up the mess. However, the Hero of Eorzea was an unexpected man in the end, and in a whisper that barely sounded like it came from the same jolly singer earlier, he broke the silence and told Gaius over the chatter behind them:

“I thought we’d agreed on not intruding on each other’s business.”

The Warrior of Light had always resented Gaius — and for good reason — despite polite mannerisms and neutral expression put on in the presence of comrades-in-arms; That much was plain to see. But old scars ran deep, and Gaius couldn’t truthfully say he didn’t feel the same way, either. So even after they’d agreed to a truce since the Ruby Weapon escapades, the two had both solemnly accepted that they’d never get along. Not then, not now, and perhaps not ever.

“The barmaid is a Garlean refugee who’s arranged to accommodate me,” Gaius signalled a passing waitress for another glass to replace the drink he had sacrificed. For the sake of remaining inconspicuous, if nothing else. “I’d rather not have anything funny happening in here.”

The hero looked unnecessarily composed as he gathered up the last of his ale-soaked napkin. “Surely you, of all people, don’t think me so naïve and defenseless anymore,  _ Black Wolf _ ?”

“Naïve, no.  _ Spiteful _ , perhaps,” Calmly taking his newly-arrived jug of booze, Gaius let out a sigh. Did open resentment never get old for him? “Though I daresay the barmaid wouldn’t fancy a murder happening on her doorstep either way… _ Hero _ .”

An eikon-sundering glare (which Gaius had and was still ignoring, only causing it to intensify) being shot was practically audible to the ear. The hero opened his mouth to spat more rebuttal his way, but didn’t have the chance to, as Gaius slid his glass over to his side of the counter, saying:

“I’m paying,” Gaius said simply, barely looking up. “Cool your wrist down with that before it bruises, if nothing else. Just try not to force it down then throw it back up.”

There was a twitch in the hero's eye, but Gaius knew he was no fool; he knew the hero was more than aware already that he could very much use the help, lest he was bombarded with questions from his friends and subordinates alike about the mark of that bastard’s tough grip come morning. He wasn’t about to let Gaius’s wording for it pass, though, apparently. For he discarded the dirty napkin behind the counter, took a seat, then downed a huge portion of the genuinely rather strong spirits in one go, right in front of Gaius, just to show that he wasn’t going to ‘force it down then throw it back up’. At least that’d keep him from overworking, Gaius supposed.

After spell of familiarly awkward silence, the one in which both ‘former’ enemies displayed an indifferent attitude out of pride or spite, the hero suddenly asked:

“...What’s Milisandia to you?” 

He was pressing his wrist against the cold glass of his drink, looking intently at thr peculiar air bubbles floating up to the surface — or perhaps at nothing at all. A certain battle was obviously still plaguing his mind. 

Gaius could’ve kept silent. He could’ve dodged the question or refer back to their ‘no intruding’ agreement, but for reasons the former general himself knew not of, he felt compelled to answer, simply but truthfully: 

“A daughter in all but blood.”

The Warrior of Light paused, still watching his drink as if it was a mimic that would attack him at a moment’s notice. 

“...I’m sorry.” he said finally, which made Gaius look up, if only for a moment, before returning his gaze back to the barrels behind the counter.

“...I had thought yourself past the classic brand of self-blaming heroism by now,” Gaius remarked. “Perhaps I was mistaken.”

Though his words ( _ whatever it was _ ) usually stirred a counter reaction from Eorzea’s hero, peculiarly it was now only replied with silence and a frown.

“I’m just of the opinion that no soul deserves to die in such agony,” Eventually, the hero sighed, then shifted in his seat to face his former enemy properly. “Hey, humor me for a bit.”

Gaius, who had ordered another glass (of the usual ale, this time), raised a brow, urging him to continue.

“You've looked into these dastarded Prototype Weapons, haven’t you?” The hero asked, a serious look on his face. “If there is a way to prevent the pilot’s consciousness from being overridden, tell me. To the  _ last _ detail, if you must.”

“Would that I could, but I’m afraid I’ve told you all the intel we could gather,” Gaius calmly took a swig from his glass. “The rest will have to wait until Cid’s research bore some semblance of fruit.”

“Don’t play me for a fool,  _ Baelsar _ ,” The hero all but growled. “You  _ know _ something more, and I swear, by the Twelve, if you keep resolving to your  _ bloody secrecy _ —“

“You’ve too much ale tonight.”

“THIS IS ABOUT YOUR BLOODY  _ CHILDREN _ , FOR GODS’ SAKE!” Finally, the hero slammed the table, patience all gone. He looked almost ready to grab Gaius by the collar and drag him outside, with those livid eyes of his. “DO YOU TRULY WISH TO SEE THEM DEAD?! OR IS IT SO SATISFYING TO SEE  _ ME  _ MAKE SOMEONE SUFFER THAT YOU’RE WILLING TO SACRIFICE—“

“ _ Stand down,  _ **_Sylva_ ** .”

Gaius’s voice almost vibrates through the air, and at that moment, the Warrior of Light went silent, almost as if he’d just realized why the man in front of him was chosen as the Legatus of the XIVth Legion. He had drawn himself to his full height, now towering over the shorter miqo’te, though neither showed signs of backing down. After a moment of a glaring competition, Gaius’s voice spoke out again, stating: 

“You’re causing a ruckus.”

The hero’s ears flinched in realization, and he looked around over his shoulder to see an almost exact replication of the scene he had witnessed just a few minutes prior; the entire tavern had paused, no doubt their attention piqued from his yelling, and the two men were now the standing at the center of about three dozen people’s worth of attention. 

Looking around, down, then back up again, the hero eventually clicked his tongue and sat back down while waiting for the place to forget their presence. Gaius followed suit, after throwing a nothing-to-see-here glare at the curious eyes around them.

After allowing sufficient time to pass and making sure the chatter behind them had come back to life, Gaius answered:

“I’ve no right to your trust, hero, but try to believe me on this one matter,” he sighed, taking another swig of his ale. “Though beyond that may be personal business, I care for Allie and the others more than anything in the world.”

The hero huffed. Wrist pressed into the glass still, he took a swig of it himself, no doubt coughing from the sensation of burning in his throat. “They may send in another one of them to pilot the next prototype, you know.”

“I am aware,” Gaius said. “‘Tis the reason why Cid is investigating the Ruby Weapon and my comrades are looking for any intel we can get even as we speak. If there is a way, we’ll find it in time.”

Scowling, the hero didn’t seem very convinced, but apparently decided to let it slide with a sigh.

“You'd better keep your word, Shadowhunter,” he said, emptying even more of his glass. “If the next weapon drops another dozen Dalamuds on Eorzean soil, I won’t be able to hold back.”

“...Of course,” Gaius stared off to the barrels behind the counter again, thankfully unnoticed by the already irritated hero. “Though, humor me for a second.”

“What  _ else _ ?”

“What reason does the Warrior of Light have to care so much about a group of Garleans related to the Legatus Legionis?”

The hero stared at him. Then, he scoffed, still pressing his wrist on what little remained of his cold booze.

“Just because I despise a _savage_ wolf doesn’t mean I’d kill his pups, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> The song featured here is a parodied version of The Bear and the Maiden Fair from Game of Thrones. Specifically [this version](https://youtu.be/t6VMSYIXCCY), because the atmosphere and the voice fits what I had in mind.
> 
> and if it was me I could only write big fat tacos


End file.
